


Frustration

by blaaajung



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Break Up, Broken Promises, Getting Back Together, Kinda, M/M, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Pining, Sad, Separation Anxiety, Separations, angsty, broken!harry, broken!niall, harry whores around, it started as a drabble but turned into a whatever this is, liam and zayn are just kinda there, louis doesn't even appear, niall is not even in the first part, off stage sex, sorry louis i love you, there WILL be a part two just wait, well kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blaaajung/pseuds/blaaajung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn has had enough of walking in on his roommate fucking people when he gets home. But is there more to it that meets the eye?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a prompt from a really good friend who was supposed to write the ending cause I can only write beginnings. BUT SHE CHICKENED OUT ON ME. Welp.

Zayn was sick of this. It'd been less than a month and he's seen more of his roommate naked than he's seen his boyfriend. A fair argument would be that Liam didn't believe in pre-marital sex, and Harry happened to be into the whole 'New Age' thing where letting lose and being liberated from clothes were part of the daily process.

 

But Zayn didn't mind that part. The being naked part. What he did mind was having to see more than just Harry being naked.

 

University was supposed to be all about living in dorms, having cool roommates that threw crazy parties, sneaking around with your boyfriend stealing sips from your roommate's secret alcohol stash, and rushing through assignments due two days ago.

 

And that was totally the case for Zayn up till three weeks ago when his new roommate Harry Styles moved in in place of his old mate, Louis who'd graduated in the summer and was no longer eligible for university housing.

 

Not that Harry wasn't cool or funny or anything, it's just that Zayn's seen a little too much of Harry.

 

Now Harry's a charming kid and all, first year in university, unruly curls and an award-winning smile with cute dimples that would bring anybody to his bed.

 

And yes, anybody. Except, for Harry, it hadn't really been his bed. More like sofa, table top, counter, chair, wall, door, and on occasion, window.

 

Quite the impressive one he is, that Harry. But not so much to Zayn. In fact Zayn was quite done with Harry's antics. They had their own rooms for activities like that for god's sake.

 

And okay, maybe Zayn was a bit over the edge with having to see more than an acquaintance has to. It was all understandable, seeing as he was quite deprived himself. But he didn't say anything about it.

 

At least not for the first two weeks.

 

Zayn thought it was, you know, just a phase for Harry. Finally having freedom from family and all, getting his own flat and all (even though he has to split the rent but that's another thing). Zayn thought that these random hook-ups would cease once the course load of the semester piled in. But he was wrong.

 

Zayn's initial reaction was to find it amusing. He'd developed a somewhat brotherly affection for Harry, being an older brother himself and Harry having a natural vibe that screamed young and innocent and needing to be guided. Zayn thought it was cute, young freshman kid getting laid with different people every night, having no strings attached and trying to keep up a care-free, hipster 

image (though his cherub-ish face was totally against his favour).

 

Everyday. Every single day Zayn would come back to his flat, tired, annoyed and worn out from his part-time job as a waiter, only to see Harry having his dick buried within a different lass or lad. 

 

Never the same, always someone different (Zayn swore he saw his philosophy lecturer once but he couldn't be too sure). It mostly ended in Harry's partner (or occasionally partners) would awkwardly gather up their clothes and scuffle out of the flat with cheeks a-flamed and head bent down. Sometimes they would take it back to Harry's room, much to Zayn's dismay.

 

And now, barely a month into the school year and he was quite done with Harry. Already, Zayn was being piled with assignments and readings from his courses, and he would assume the same for Harry. But this wasn't the case. Harry still has a different date every night and the noises they made together were overly distracting to Zayn who was trying to get through Sociology and Anthropology 101 and was way behind schedule.

 

Saturdays had usually been a quiet affair when Louis had been Zayn's roommate, filled with warm cups of tea and traditional English fry-ups prepared by Liam (who abstained from drinking, among other things). Louis threw the craziest parties every Friday night, and Saturdays were usually time for the two boys to wind down and relax and hopefully catch up on overdue assignments.

 

But now, since Harry had moved in to Louis' room, Saturdays included waking up at six and going for runs just so he could avoid awkward morning encounters Harry's latest hook-up. Frustrating really, considering Zayn wasn't quite the morning person, along with him not having as much alcohol in this university life as he'd planned to. He was pissed, really. All Zayn wanted was to throw parties and get drunk and get coddled by his boyfriend the next morning. But that wasn't quite possible with Harry and his (slightly embarrassing) hook-ups in the picture.

 

Zayn was done. He's had enough of Harry bringing different people home every night and having to walk into them all the time. That kid has a problem. It's not normal. And Zayn's putting a stop to it.

 

Which would explain why he's up, breakfast prepared and freshly showered at ten on a Saturday morning instead of poring over his books and typing away on his laptop.

 

He was waiting for Harry to be up and his latest bed warmer to be gone. This kid had serious issues. Was he really that lonely? Or did he like have a problem with keeping a relationship? Or maybe perhaps it was something deeper than that... Whatever it was, Zayn's determined to find out.

 

Zayn had never been happier to see Harry and his partner, a petite blonde girl with a pixie cut that looked suspiciously like their neighbour, stumble out of Harry's room. At least they had the decency to be properly dressed, Zayn thought, chuckling to himself.

 

Watching as Harry ushered the girl out of their flat with a hasty peck on the cheek, Zayn pondered over how to start this conversation with Harry. Admittedly he should've thought this through before he went on with his plan, but it's too late to back out now, seeing as Harry had pulled himself a chair with a cheery "good morning" and helped himself to some of the bacon and eggs that Zayn had set out.

 

A sour feeling began to spread in his gut; guilt for not sharing his cooking with Liam. He didn't cook very often, and whenever he did, Liam always commented on how good he was. He brushed the thought away, focusing on Harry who seemed happy to have a warm meal cooked from home set in front of him.

 

"So mate, what's up with this," Harry said, gesturing to the dining table laid with food that Zayn had yet to touch. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but this isn't quite usual of you. 'Specially on Saturday mornings."

 

"Funny how you brought that up, Haz," Zayn chuckled. "I was just thinking that we should, you know, have a man to man talk."

 

"Man to man talk? Sounds cool," Harry mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

 

"Yeah, so.. About man to man, how 'bout we start off with twenty questions? Yeah?"

 

"Sounds great. I'll start," Harry decided, placing his fork down. "How'd you meet Liam?"

 

"Oh easy. I met him during orientation. He was, uh, he was actually supposed to crack an egg in my mouth."

 

"Oh. Um, that's wonderful I guess. Glad I didn't get orientated."

 

"Well you don't really have to worry 'bout that now. They got a new guy in charge of orientation activities. Josh Devine. Do you know him?"

 

"Oh yeah. Modern Arts major? And drummer?"

 

"Yeup. That's him. It's my turn to ask now, yeah?" Zayn said as he swallowed his toast.

 

"Ask away, big guy."

 

"So, how'd you meet that girl from this morning?"

 

Harry paused for a second. "Dunno. Saw her at a bar last night. She decided to come home with me."

 

"Huh. Just like every other one of your hook-ups eh?"

 

"Uh, yeah, pretty much," Harry replied nervously.

 

"Nice."

 

"We're not playing twenty questions anymore, are we?"

 

"No."

 

"So what's this about then."

 

"Harry look, we need to talk..."

 

"Please don't kick me out of the flat!" Harry blurted, interrupting Zayn.

 

Zayn stared at Harry, jaw slack and slightly confused. What?

 

"Um no, I'm not. Just listen yeah? You've been um, bringing quite a number of people to our flat over the one month period you've been here. Not that I'm saying you shouldn't get laid or anything, but like, um, try to like, keep it to your room?"

 

"Oh. That," Harry chuckled. "Jeez, I thought I like somehow hooked-up with one of your ex's or something so you prepared me my last meal before kicking me out to the streets."

 

Zayn laughed, loud and unrestrained. He was so tickled by the absurdity of Harry's words.

 

“What the hell Haz? If I were still _that_ attached to my ex, I think Liam would kill me!”

 

“True,” Harry nodded understandingly. 

 

“And, uh, Harry? Maybe you should learn to tone it down a little. You happen to be sharing a flat with someone else. Not forgetting you have neighbours as well.”

 

“Oh. Um, sorry?” Harry blushed.

 

“Yeah. Um, you know I'm always here if you need someone to talk to yeah? Even though I'm not like entirely close to you or anything, I mean one month isn't a long time, but um, we happen to live together so, uh, we should stick together?”

 

“Thanks mate.. I really appreciate it..”

 

An awkward silence passed through. Zayn's mind was racing. How the hell is he supposed to actually get his point through to Harry and figure out if the kid's just purely a Casanova or someone with issues. This is a talk for another day, Zayn decided, seeing as it's already past eleven and he's due to meet Liam in about half an hour. Hopefully Harry gets the message that Zayn doesn't appreciate all these hook-up stuff. Hopefully. For now, he's got a hot date to catch.

 

“Kay, so, I gotta go. Clear up after you're done, yeah?” Zayn announced, pushing himself out of his chair. He trotted over to the sink and dumped his plate in, turning on the tap to get the water going.

 

“Hey, leave the plate, I'll do the dishes. Count that we're even, you making breakfast and all,” Harry called from the table.

 

“Thanks man,” Zayn said as he turned off the tap and dried his hands before going back to his room to get ready.

 

 

 

***

 

 

He heard the front door slam shut, signalling the departure of Zayn. He didn't bother saying good bye to his flat mate as he shut himself in his bathroom and turned the hot water on. Harry quickly shimmied out of his trackies and sweater (those being all he was wearing), and jumped into the shower, slowly letting the water wash him away. 

 

But they didn't wash everything away. Not the pain, not the guilt or regret that gnawed his insides and definitely not the emptiness left in him. Because, really, water can't wash away emptiness, there's nothing left to wash. You could only hope for something to fill the space in, but more often than not, it won't be a perfect fit. 

 

There's always a place in you for someone, your other half, and Harry believes that every person was born with that emptiness meant to be filled. The emptiness could only be filled by one person, like a personal mould of sorts. You can't over-fill the emptiness or one might burst, and neither can you under-fill it or one wouldn't have enough to survive. Everyone needs to fill their emptiness with their certain someone. That certain someone doesn't come by easily, but on the rare chance that you meet that certain someone that can fill your emptiness, you grasp them and keep them safe, and never let them go. 

 

The thing is, Harry has already filled his emptiness perfectly, he's very sure he's found his certain someone. But he'd let his certain someone go. 

 

Whether it was by his own choice out of his own free-will, or by the choice of circumstances, Harry had let his certain someone go and he could never forgive himself. 

 

How could he have had such wavered hope that things wouldn't work out? _They_ 'd promised each other that _they_ would always be there for one another in good times and bad times. 

 

Almost like the vows, Harry thought.

 

Through thick and thin, Harry should have been patient, he should have trusted in _their_ love. He should have he should have, there were so many things he should have done but he didn't, and now he was regretting it. 

 

And it hurts more than anything knowing that _they_ could have worked out something, anything, anything but _this,_ being apart and not being _together._

 

The guilt felt like acid in his gut, eating at him, being a constant reminder of the pain he'd left on that perfect face. 

 

That look, Harry will never forget the hurt that flashed across those crystal blue eyes he'd loved so much when he'd told _him_ that _they_ were breaking up, told him that _they_ couldn't be together any more because long-distanced didn't work well for him. He will never forget the tears that threatened to spill out of _his_ eyes when he told _him_ he can't be in a relationship with _him_ any more. And most of all, Harry would never forget the pain in that face that was once constantly broken by smiles and laughter. His golden boy, his kitten, his love, and now, he's broken. 

 

“ _How could you say that? After all we've been through?”_ Rang loud and clear through his head as more water hit his back. He was now squatted in the shower, panting heavily as his memories of once-love haunted him. Tears were now mixed with the running water as frustration builds up. 

 

“ _You promised me... You promised me we'd be together forever,”_ echoed throughout Harry's mind. Clenching his fists, he willed the voice in his mind to leave, to go away, trying to reason with it that he's learnt his lesson and he regrets what he did. 

 

He can't forget. He can never forget.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Part II

Frustration II

 

 

Niall Horan hated autumn. He hated the way the leaves would turn fiery, a mixture of red and orange and yellow. He hated how they fell and cluttered the sidewalks and his yard, and just about everywhere. He particularly disliked the way the temperature dropped where it was not quite freezing, but not exactly summer-like either. It was those in-between types of cold, but not nearly cold enough to wear overcoats and mittens.

 

It was definitely not because laughter and giggles would echo in his mind. Not because memories of endless days playing in leaf piles and exchanging mugs of cocoa would flash through his mind. Neither is it because of the whispered secrets of childhood memories would resurface, lost times of splashing through the autumn rain in over-sized rainboots and an umbrella, giggling and running around. Absolutely not because of the drizzly rain that seemed to never end that also came hand in hand with cuddling under warm covers and bonding over terrible music.

 

No. It was purely because it was those times where woollen jumpers and over-sized sweaters were exactly what the weather called for. And not to mention those hand-knit scarves he'd had to pull out from the back of his closet after six months of not having the need for them. And most of all, it was because it signalled the beginning of a school term. A school term spent alone; lost and abandoned by the one he gave everything to.

 

What he hated the most about autumn was the cold, and the fact that he had no one to keep him warm. No one to make silly jokes about how pumpkins and apples were casually strewn around as household decorations to imitate the North American way of celebrating Thanksgiving.

 

His heart ached. It's been a month. One antagonizing month that would lead to eternity. Everything hurt. How could he have given up what they've built up together for so long just for four casual years?

 

Try as he might, he could not forget the vacant look in those familiar, green eyes he spent days staring into. The emotionless way he'd spoken when he'd broke the news to Niall. He could not forget how everything fell apart then, how he'd sobbed and screamed at him. How all he was left with was his name lingering on his lips as he walked away.

 

_Harry._

 

The object of his nightmares and shadows. The reason why he hated autumn, and just about everything else. When he left, he took everything, everything, including Niall's will to live. Along with him, Harry took every memory that they shared, every broken shard of Niall's heart left.

 

Oh how Niall wished he could go back to the blissful days of summer where Harry and him had spent endless days together, fooling around in the sun and staring up at into the starry sky during the nights. Life was so easy then. All that really mattered was that Harry and him were together.

 

All the life was seemingly sucked right out of him when Harry left. _Why did he have to go? Why did he have to end it all?_

 

Now Niall was merely an empty shell living through his days, barely talking, barely eating. What was the point of being here when Harry obviously didn't want him? When the time they'd had together could be so easily tossed aside by Harry as if it were another vapour in the wind when to Niall it was everything.

 

School didn't matter. It wasn't the same without Harry. It didn't help either, the fact that every time he walked out of the front doors he would be greeted by the sight of those peachy walls that covered the house across the street. The very house he'd first given himself to Harry in. The very house where memories were built since he was in his diapers, running around squealing and being chased by the older boy.

 

Why did he have to be a year younger? Would Harry still love him if he were older? Would Harry still be with him were it not for his age?

 

Bitter thoughts plagued his mind. _Of course Harry would leave, why would he want_ you _when he could easily have older, more experienced people in university?_

 

_The very reason he spent his time with me for those seventeen years,_ Niall reasoned with himself. A bitter sob escaped his lips. He was talking to _himself._ He'd fallen so deeply into the gap that Harry left that his only option was to reason and talk with himself. How could he have let himself come to this?

 

“Niall, please love, you've got to eat something, you're gonna be late for school,” his mother's voice echoed off somewhere. Time really wasn't a concept Niall could wrap his mind around properly now, especially since nothing really mattered to him any more. “It's Friday, love. Isn't there supposed to be football try-outs today after school?”

 

Right, football. Another reason to dislike autumn; footie season. You see, apart from going to school, Niall hasn't actually done much besides leave his room to go to the washroom and get food. Football has always been a huge part of his life, he absolutely loved the sport, and he absolutely loved it when Harry came to watch him play. It was their thing; Harry would sit on the bleachers and watch him practice in the mornings and after school, and then Harry would offer Niall whatever snack he'd prepared for the blond as he was always hungry, especially after running around. Harry would pet Niall on the head and tell him how great he was on the field and how Niall looked absolutely adorable in his little footie kit. Niall revelled in these compliments; lived for them. But now he won't be in the receiving end of any of these, so why bother with football any more?

 

A gentle hand on his shoulder shook his thoughts away, bringing him back to where he was, seated at the dining table with three pairs of concerned eyes staring at him.

 

“I'm fine,” was his instinctive reply to the unasked questions. He hastily got up and grabbed his knapsack before muttering a quick “bye,” and shutting the door behind him, his breakfast untouched. His eyes never leaving the floor once. And neither did he look up when he got out, the familiar, well-trodden path to school laying out before him. He let his feet lead him on, allowing his mind to wander and ponder about his existence. The cool, autumn air blew about the leaves in the town of Cheshire, and Niall couldn't help but think how he really wished to be some place else. Maybe he shouldn't be here at all. Maybe he shouldn't even happened. And his vision grew hazy as his legs started to collapse under him.

 

 

***

 

 

“Dude, what's wrong? You haven't left your room all weekend!” Zayn knocked on Harry's door worriedly. Since their heart-to-heart a week ago, Harry hasn't brought another person back with him (which Zayn was quite thankful for). But he grew worried when he noticed that Harry barely left the flat except to go to classes and get groceries (which he barely did). Heck, he barely even left his room!

 

“I'm fine,” croaked the hoarse voice from inside.

 

“Hey, you alright? I've noticed you haven't been going out or anything except for classes during the week. Are you ill? Can I come in?”

 

And without waiting for a reply, Zayn turns the knob and walks in the room. The first thing he noticed was how _messy_ everything was; books were strewn around, clothes lying on the floor, and _oh,_ was that a pile of garbage in a corner? Hell, Zayn knew guys (much like himself) tended to stray towards the unkempt side, but really, this was like a slum.

 

“Harry?” Zayn called out to the figure wrapped in his comforter. “Are you okay?”

 

“I'm _fine._ ”

 

“You don't sound fine to me.”

 

An annoyed grunt followed by Harry whipping his covers off in frustration as he sat up was what Zayn got in reply. And he was stunned, before he noticed the red rims around Harry's eyes.

 

“Dude, were you crying?”

 

Harry glared, reaching for a tissue from under his comforter (that Zayn really hopes is clean) and blows his nose into it.

 

“Yes,” he grunted crankily.

 

“Why? Do you wanna talk about it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Is this what you've been doing for the whole week? Coming back from class and going to your room and cry?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Harry. Something's not right. I'm always here to talk okay?” Zayn couldn't help but feel that this was totally related to Harry's mass-one-night-stand-escapades. He shrugged of the bitter feeling at the pit of his stomach that was his sixth sense telling him this was just the tip of an iceberg. He sighed, giving Harry one last concerned look before turning on his heels and heading for the door. Harry was obviously not up for talking and clearly just wanted to be left alone. He'd yet to follow up on that bro-to-bro talk he'd started the week before, but this was not the time for it.

 

“Zayn.”

 

He spun around, slightly taken aback that Harry would voluntarily speak to him in the state that he was at. “Yes?”

 

“Have you ever regretted something you did?”

 

“Yes. Of course. I regret many things I've done,” was Zayn's honest reply. What has Harry done that he'd regretted? This has nothing to do with those one-night stands, right? _Wait,_ unless... “Harry! Don't tell me you knocked some girl up?”

 

“No?” Harry denied, a rough chuckled escaping his lips.

 

Zayn smiled. He was glad his comment managed to break Harry's depressing mask a little. He didn't know the younger lad for very long, but he was sure the melancholic state totally did not suit him (it wouldn't suit anyone, really).

 

“Then, why're you asking?”

 

“What's it like, Zayn? How would you ease the guilt?” Harry asked again, ignoring Zayn's question.

 

Zayn thought about it for a moment. “I'd try to forget about it, I guess. Either that or I'll apologise if I could.”

 

Harry sighed.

 

“Harry? What are you regretting?”

 

“I've tried forgetting, Zayn. I've really tried, but I can't,” Harry spoke, sounding so lost and broken.

 

_What has this boy done,_ was all Zayn could think as he sat by Harry's bed and pulled the younger boy into a hug. A sob escaped from the quaking frame, and Zayn gripped tighter, rubbing soothing circle's on Harry's back.

 

“Shh, it's gonna be okay,” Zayn said.

 

“No,” Harry sobbed, voice muffled by Zayn's shirt. “It's not. He's hurt and I'm hurt. It's too broken to be fixed.”

 

Zayn's mind was in a whirl. Questions were asked, but not spoken out, frenzying back and forth within, trying to decipher the meanings behind Harry's words. What exactly happened? Who is this “he” Harry was referring to?

 

“Hey, it's okay, I'm here, you can tell me what's going on,” was what Zayn said instead.

 

No longer was Harry the cheeky, confident flirt he'd first met earlier that month. Instead, he was exactly what he was, a young and broken boy, vulnerable and scared. Zayn's heart went out to him, his brotherly instincts taking over. He'd grown up with two younger sisters, and he'd looked out for them all his life. He'd always longed for a brother, and you could say Harry quite fit the bill for it. His inner nature to look out for and to solve issues resurfaced.

 

“I'm so scared, Zayn,” Harry whimpered. “What if I never see him again? What if he never wants to ever see me again?”

 

“Who wouldn't want to see you again? You're such a wonderful person.” Zayn tightened his hold on the younger boy, trying to tell him that he's here and he's safe and he's alright.

 

“Niall,” Harry said, barely above a whisper before he lapsed into more sobs and tears. “I left him. I left him even though I love him. Why?”

 

Zayn's heart clenched at how _wrecked_ Harry sounded; how lost and confused and how helpless he sounded as the words left his lips. He could feel a wet spot spreading on his chest as Harry cried, but brushed the thought away as he continued comforting the boy.

 

_He's so young,_ Zayn thought, _and it seems that he's experienced the searing pain of losing someone._ Zayn gathered the boy into his arms and started rocking him back and forth, just like how he would with his sisters when they were crying, and soon enough the sobbing subsided as Harry was being lulled to sleep. Gently, so as not to awaken the boy, Zayn lay him down on the bed and pulled the covers over him.

 

He had a feeling this was the first time Harry had properly slept in a long while, judging from the dark circles underlying the redness around his eyes. As he got up and quietly closed the door, he felt the overbearing weight of the situation bear down on his shoulders, and he suddenly felt a decade older. He felt exhausted and overspent, and what he really needed was a warm cup of tea and Liam to cuddle with.

 

 

***

 

 

“So, Harry,” Liam said the following morning at the dining table in the middle of Zayn and Harry's flat. “How're you feeling?”

 

“Much better,” Harry mumbled in reply.

 

“Zayn's been telling me you're not feeling well. Is the cold gone now? I know I usually tend to fall sick during the fall. It's flu season, after all.” Liam came over that morning when he received a text message from Zayn telling him he'd made breakfast. Who was he to decline the offer of breakfast made by his boyfriend?

 

Harry's eyes lingered on Zayn, wondering if he'd said anything about the night before to Liam. In response, Zayn merely held his gaze with his calming bronze eyes. Harry felt much better. The rustling of the morning mail being shoved through their front door broke their comfortable silence.

 

“Sounds like mail,” Zayn decided.

 

“And the paper as well,” Liam chipped.

 

“I'll get it,” Zayn said as he got out of his chair and walked towards the door and picked up the envelops and the thick stack of newspaper lying on their _Welcome_ mat. He sifted through the junk mail and utility bills before coming across an envelope with loopy handwriting addressed to Harry.

 

“Harry, you've got something.”

 

Zayn and Liam watched as Harry eyed the envelope he was handed curiously before his eyes lit up with recognition.

 

“Who's it from?” Liam asked.

 

“My mom,” Harry smiled lovingly. He'd missed his mother terribly.

 

Hastily, he ripped the envelope open and began reading the letter. His eyes crinkled with his smile as he got through the letter, and Zayn and Liam were happy for him. Especially Zayn, who'd seen Harry is such a desolate state the previous night. _Perfect timing,_ Zayn thought happily as he sipped his tea.

 

But it seemed that the universe just wanted to prove Zayn wrong. Just as he thought everything was going okay, Harry's face crumbled, and a mask of nonchalantness replaced his smile. Wrinkles soon cropped up on his forehead before a frown began to take it's place on Harry's face as his eyes continued to read through the letter.

 

Liam didn't seem to think anything of the change, and carried on with his breakfast, but Zayn, Zayn started to worry. He placed his mug back down on the table and sat up straighter in his seat, carefully observing the boy.

 

He watched as Harry's eyes widened, and as a hand came up to cover his mouth. Zayn watched as Harry eyes slowly welled up with tears, and as his nose slowly tinged red as Harry sniffled into his hand.

 

Liam was watching now, and he looked at Zayn worriedly, confused at the drastic change in the boy. Zayn grasped on Liam's hand, mind in a turmoil, torn between the choice of watching his friend slowly cry his heart out or ripping out the letter from his hand to prevent any more waterworks from starting.

 

Harry slowly put the letter down, shakily breathing in and out, as if trying to calm himself. He willed himself not to cry. He wouldn't cry.

 

“I-I've got to go,” was all he said before bolting for his room.

 

Liam and Zayn were left at the table, confused and scared. What's going on with Harry?

 

The other boy soon reappeared with a small duffel bag in tow, his cellphone in hand and dressed for going out.

 

“I won't be back for a couple of days. Please don't worry.” And he left, the sound of the door clicking behind him ringing throughout the silent apartment.

 

_Should I?_ Zayn thought as he regarded the discarded letter left on the table where Harry once sat. _Screw it,_ he thought as he reached for it, curiosity getting the better of him. He had to know, had to know what was it in those penned words that could urge Harry to run out of the flat and leave for a couple days? What was it in the letter that pulled such a strong reaction from the younger boy? Did it have something to do with last night's crying? Was this also related to his endless one-night stands and the sudden abrupt stop to them?

 

“Zayn,” Liam said warningly. “Don't intrude on his privacy.”

 

“Sorry, Li. I've got to know what's up with him. He's really starting to worry me.”

 

He scanned through the letter: _Dearest Harry, I hope you haven't forgotten this old mother of yours when you are off in uni!_ He skipped through the introduction, and zoomed in on where his eyes caught the word ' _Niall'_. Niall, the name Harry said last night. Who was he?

 

_..Maura has been telling me about Niall. I've kept an eye out for your little angel. He is not the same Harry, he hasn't been since you've left. It pains me so much to see him lose his glow. Remember how I used to tell you that Niall practically radiated light? Now he doesn't. He's not smiling any more, and he's not saying anything. Hell, Maura had to pry it out of him to find out that you two have broken up. BROKEN UP HARRY. What in the world prompted you to do such a thing? You've done more than just broke up with him, you've broken him completely. How could you? Imagine how angry I was when I found out?_

 

_You better get your sorry self back home and sort things out with the poor boy or else I would come to London myself and drag you back. Niall deserves so much. He was so happy with you, the two of you were perfect and you decided to throw that all away? You are supposed to be clever, Harry! You're studying in university, for god's sake! How could you make such a stupid decision? Good partners like him don't come by easily. He's your ONE Harry, and now you've just threw him aside._

 

_And you know what else? Maura told me he hasn't been eating. He's starving himself, she says. STARVING. Harry. Niall Horan starving himself. The boy who never stops eating starves himself.._

 

And Zayn couldn't bring himself to read any further. He wasn't quite sure what he'd read. At least he now knows Niall was Harry's boyfriend (well, ex boyfriend). He sighed heavily. There wasn't much he could do now. All he could do is wait for Harry to come back and hope everything works out between him and Niall. He leaned into Liam's chest, feeling so exhausted and just breathing in Liam's comforting scent.

 

 

***

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That took longer than expected. Sorry. I lied earlier when I said that it ends in part 2. There will be a part 3. Hopefully soon.


	3. Part III

The sound of machines beeping around him woke him from his deep slumber. He'd dreamed of warmth and sunshine and endless days of cuddling in bed with his beloved. He fought the tears that threatened to spill when realisation hit him that all he'd dreamt of was simply just that, a dream.

 

It took a few moments before Niall realised that he wasn't in his room. The walls were white and everything smelled like the cleansing alcohol in hand sanitisers. And then he felt it; the clenching pain in his abdomen that made him curl into himself. That was also when he discovered that tube in his wrist.

 

What was going on? Where in the world was he? What the hell happened?

 

Slowly, moving his tube away and wincing, he sat up. The bed was hard and unfamiliar. Niall was scared. Why was he alone by himself in this strange place?

 

“Oh my! Honey! You're awake!” his mother's familiar voice called out as she rushed into the room, carrying two cups of tea. She immediately placed the cups on the side table and began to fawn over her son. “Niall, dear, how are you feeling?”

 

He tried to find his voice, but his throat was dry. He could barely manage a croak before realisation reached his mother's eyes and she hastily handed him a warm cup of tea. He gratefully took it and drank it with care, careful not to drink too fast.

 

“Wh-where am I?” he finally asked.

 

“The hospital. You passed out after you left for school,” his mother answered, taking his cup from his hands. He studied her face, noticing for the first time the dark circles that were failed to be covered up by the make-up she wore. “You've had us a right shock when we got a call from Mr. Hendrickson from down the road saying he's put you on an ambulance after you collapsed in front of his house.”

 

“H-how long have I been here?”

 

“You were out for two days,” his mother replied softly. “Oh Niall, you had us so worried. Don't ever do that again! The doctors said you were exhausted and lacking energy. You've even developed a stomach ulcer! You've got to take care of yourself, honey!”

 

Niall felt his breath knocked out of him as his mother pulled him into a tight hug, rubbing her hands soothingly on his back and whispering _iloveyou, iloveyousomuch_ endlessly.

 

He reciprocated the hug, breathing in the familiar scent, tentatively resting his arms on her back. He felt like crying, how did he come to this? He used to be so happy, so contented and so full of joy. He was never weak and frail despite being smaller than other boys his age.

 

“You're better than this, Niall,” his mother whispered. “Don't let one dumb boy's decision ruin you.” She continued to pepper kissed on his head, gentle, soft touches warming his skin up.

 

A knock on the door interrupted their mother-son session.

 

“Hello Niall. I'm Dr. Bane. It's great to see you awake. I'm just gonna run some check ups on you and make sure you're fit to consume food, is that alright?”

 

 

***

 

 

It was Sunday, 2:16pm and Harry was running from the cab straight for the house he so often came to visit before he left for university.

 

“Niall,” he cried, banging on the door. “Niall, Niall, open up, I'm so sorry! Niall please, forgive me!”

 

A choked sob left his mouth as he continuously knocked on the front door, hoping, _praying_ that someone would open and let him in. Let him find his Niall. _His_ Niall. The Niall he left. His perfect angel that he wasn't worthy of.

 

Arms wrapped around him, pulling him back. “Nobody's home.” He turned around into the familiar warmth of his mother, clinging onto her as he sobbed into her chest.

 

“Mom,” he hiccuped. “I love him mom. I was so stupid. How could I have been so stupid? I need him! I need him!”

 

“Shh,” she soothed. “They are all in the hospital. Wipe your tears away. Let me take you there.”

 

“Hospital?!” His eyes widened as he followed his mother across the street into her worn Lexus.

 

“Niall just woke up earlier this morning. He'd been out for two days straight. Everyone was so worried. You have no idea.”

 

“What? How? What happened?”

 

“He stopped eating,” she sighed. “He passed out while on his way to school on Friday. Thank goodness Mr. Hendrickson found him! The doctors say he's got a stomach ulcer. He hasn't been eating proper meals for a while now.”

 

“What have I done?” Harry hoarsely whispered to himself. He stared at his hands in horror, tears brimming at his eyes again. “I love him so much, mom. He..he means so much to me. I was so lost without him.”

 

“Then stop hurting him,” his mother said, eyes trained on the road. “You've really broken him when you left like that. I thought the two of you would've planned some sort of long-distanced relationship.”

 

“I-I couldn't bear the thought being away from him...” Harry admitted. “I didn't want to tie him down to a relationship with someone he couldn't be with. It's his last year of highschool, he should be having fun and not pining for someone so far away.”

 

“But what if pining for someone far away was what made him happy as long as he could call that someone 'his'? Have you never thought about that, Harry?”

 

“..No.”

 

His mother sighed. “You're so clever, Harry. But it's the simplest things that you don't see. Niall was always so _eager_ to be with you, so happy when he's with you. You bring the glow out of him, everyone can see that. Everyone but you.”

 

“I..I didn't know..”

 

“Now you do,” she replied, pulling into the large parking lot. “You go in and ask for a Niall Horan at the front desk. I expect you to come back out with a beautiful son-in-law for me.”

 

Harry looked at his mother. “You aren't coming with me?”

 

“Why should I come with you? _I_ didn't dump my boyfriend for a stupid reason,” his mother looked at him puzzled. “You're old enough to deal with your own problems. You don't need me. You're already in university for god's sake!”

 

“Mom,” Harry whispered lowly, unsure of his voice. “I'm scared. I'm afraid to face him. I can't bear to look into his eyes any more. They haunt me, in my dreams, how lost they looked when I broke up with him. I can't face him any more. Please, please understand.”

 

“You've got to do this on your own, love. I can't be there with you all your life. You need to learn.”

 

He breathed out shakily before gathering the will-power to open the door and step out.

 

“Harry,” his mother called. “If anything goes wrong, call me? I know you wouldn't have the time to call me if all goes well. I'll always love you, remember that, even when you do the stupidest things.”

 

“Love you too.”

 

 

***

 

 

“Niall, you've got to eat something,” his mother pleaded, offering the bowl of soup to him.

 

“I don't want it,” he replied softly. “I'm tired.”

 

“You haven't properly eaten for two days. You can't take your meds without eating, and without your meds you won't get better,” his mother tried reasoning with him.

 

“Ma, I'm not hungry. My stomach hurts.”

 

“That's cause you don't have anything inside. Here, just a little, do this for me?”

 

He looked at the soup warily before bringing a spoonful to his mouth, and swallowing. He watched as a smile began to form on his mother's face, and was encouraged to put another into his mouth. He has to stop being weak and make his mother proud. He can't let himself be reduced to this, all because of one –

 

“Niall!” a familiar voice resounded through the room. The voice that'd plagued him with sleepless nights and endless nightmares. The voice that broke him beyond repair, changed him so he was unrecognisable.

 

“Niall,” came the voice, closer now, a hand reaching out to touch him on the shoulder. He flinched, not looking up. Not daring to look up.

 

Everything was hurting now. He just wanted to curl up and cry. Why was he here? What does he want? Did he come back to laugh at him after what he'd done? His vision was blurred by the tears that threatened to spill, blotting out his view of the world. The bowl of soup was no longer in his hands, and the salty after-taste of the soup was now bitter. He could almost taste the bile that was building up.

 

“Please leave,” he managed to get out, voice sounding strange to his own ears.

 

“Niall, I love you, I'm so sorry,” Harry pressed on. “I was so stupid. I'm sorry.”

 

A hand came and tilted his chin up so he was staring straight into those green eyes that were imprinted in his mind. Gently, Harry swiped his tears brimmed at his eyes.

 

“I'm here. I'm sorry. I promise I'll do better, I'll try harder. You deserve so much better, but, _god,_ I can't live without you. I..I was so lost and even thinking about you hurt so much. I'm sorry for not believing in us. I'm so sorry. I...I just..I love you so much, love you so much for being with me. Please don't ever leave me?”

 

“You're the one that left me,” Niall replied, voice barely a whisper.

 

“I know, babe, I know. I am so sorry for that. I don't know how I can make up for what I did. I was so wrong. I promise I would never ever leave, ever again. I'll..I'll quit university and stay with you. I'll do anything. I'll do anything for you to take you back.”

 

“You've hurt me, Harry,” Niall said, voice carrying the brokenness of his soul. “I, I don't know if I can. What if you leave again? I gave you everything.. Why?”

 

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” Harry apologised profusely. He engulfed the smaller boy into a hug, pulling him close, not ever wanting to let him go. He felt as the lean body stiffened and slowly relaxed into his touch, how Niall slowly went pliant in his hold.

 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Harry kept saying, over and over again. “I'll never let you go. I promise. I'll try my best to be an amazing boyfriend for you. I'm sorry for being the idiot I was and not realising that I had the best thing ever until I tossed you aside.”

 

Niall only sobbed into Harry's shirt in reply, clinging tightly to the thin material, gripping on with a death grip, crying his eyes out, all the hurt and anger he'd been building up and just letting it all out. Harry wants him, Harry still wants him.

 

“Say you'll take me back, say the word and I'm yours.”

 

“I.. I want you. Please.”

 

His hold on Niall tightened as he pressed his lips on Niall's forehead. “I love you. I'll always love you. I'm sorry. There's no easy path in love, but I promise, I'll keep holding on if you keep holding on. I was so lost without you. You are my light, my world, my everything. I need you.”

 

“I love you Harry. Please never leave me,” Niall said through tears.

 

This brought tears to Harry's eyes, hearing his baby so broken, so torn.

 

“I promise,” he whispered lovingly. “I promise. I swear to the moon and to the stars. I swear to always be by your side. I'll never leave you. I promise.”

 

 

***

 

Zayn was sick of this. But he'd learn to deal with it. He'd never seen Harry happier since Niall had joined him in Zayn and Harry's shared flat in London.

 

He had been released from the hospital a week ago, and his parents had agreed to let him stay with Harry in London while on his month away from school, recuperating from his fatigue and healing from his stomach ulcer. Harry was what's best for him. Harry was all he needed.

 

Zayn knew that. And Zayn knew Niall was all Harry'd ever needed. So he lets it slide all the time when he sees them being disgustingly cute together on the couch. Even when he catches Harry removing Niall's shirt in the living room that one time, he let's it slide. Because, this Harry was much better than the Harry he'd met early in September.


End file.
